


First Impressions

by rayo



Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Archie Comics (2015), Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: Dom Jughead Jones, Dom!Juggie, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, F/M, Kinky Fucks Discord, Minor Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, Sub Betty Cooper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-03-31 15:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13978587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayo/pseuds/rayo
Summary: Betty is a Senior Writer at Conde Nast, tasked with writing a profile on Jughead Jones. Problem is, Jughead Jones is an enigma. Betty is praised for her thoroughness, and a man like Jughead Jones puts that into question. Will she be able to make her deadline, or will he forever be a mystery?// Really dumb summary, I'm coming back to fix it later.





	1. Chapter 1

There is a myriad of words that could best describe Betty Cooper, but the blonde’s most prominent attribute is that she is thorough. Clients comment on it, her colleagues commend her on it, and the journalism awards haphazardly sitting in a container in the corner of her office say it as well.

Having left her first job at the Atlantic Monthly, to pursue an extremely lucrative position as a senior writer across all of Conde Nast’s publications, Betty’s felt a little in over her head during these past few weeks. Regardless, she’s persisted.

But, for the love of God, this latest project was killing her.

This assignment came to her in the form of a blank Moleskine left on her desk while she was on a lunch break one afternoon. Inside the leather-bound notebook was a letter, printed on thick bond paper with GQ’s signature metallic silver embossed letterhead.

**_Elizabeth, I’ve been waiting for a writer like you to come my way. I want a profile done on Jughead Jones for our Man of the Year issue, the deadline is two months from now. Take what you need, and need what you take. I’m trusting you on this, here’s a contact to get you started._ **

**_Antonia Topaz  
xxx-xxx-2913_ **

**_K. Keller  
Editor in Chief, Gentlemen’s Quarterly_ **

She always does reconnaissance on her subjects, but so far Jughead Jones has proven to be an enigma. Anything she searched just returned his Bloomberg Billionaires Index Profile, which was torturously vague. Some photographs from a gala held in his honor appeared, but none of them featured the same person twice. Deciding to make use of the contact Kevin provided her with, Betty picked up her office phone and dialed the number haphazardly scribbled down.

“Ophioneus Incorporated.”

“Hello, I’m Elizabeth Cooper from Conde Nast calling, is this Antonia Topaz speaking?”

“Yes, what may the reason for your call be?”

“I’ve been tasked with writing a profile on Mr. Jones for Gentlemen’s Quarterly, would he be able to sit down with me for an hour or so?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Mr. Jones is very selective with whom he allows to interview him. I’ll set up a preliminary interview with one of his associates,” she replies cautiously.

“Perfect, date and place?”

“Jean Georges, 12 pm on March 20th.”

“Tomorrow?” She asks tentatively

“Yes.” She replies, her voice unwavering.

“I’ll be there. Thank you so much Ms. Topaz.”

“You’re welcome Ms. Cooper.”

After shes sure the line is disconnected and no one’s listening in, Betty nearly squeals out of delight. She hadn’t expected to make this much headway in such a short period of time, meanwhile, her mind starts racing.

“Questions, oh my goodness, I don’t even have any questions prepared,” she mumbles under her breath, followed by a string of expletives one would never associate with such a proper ponytail.

She starts drafting out some ideas for the interview before being convinced that everything she’s writing is some jumbled nonsense. She decides to take a break and go look over the work her junior writers have been producing this afternoon.

“Hey Ethel, how is the Tillerson piece for the New Yorker coming along?”

“Just as planned, Betty. I’ll have it in by the end of the hour.”

“Glad to hear it,” she replies cooly, walking to the staff lounge to pull an overpriced cold brew coffee out of the fridge.

She hops on the elevator and heads to the 28th floor, for the GQ staffers. Making her way to Kevin’s office she peers over a few computers in the graphics department, always looking to see what’s going on with the general direction of the magazine she’s currently writing for.

“Betty, what a pleasure to see you”

"Cut the shit, Keller. You didn't think it'd be a good idea to tell me that Jughead Jones is essentially a ghost. There is literally nothing on him anywhere. Except for that fucking superficial Bloomberg profile. I don't bribe the guys in I.T. with baked goods every week to have a deep web search come up empty Kev, I don’t just do that so they’ll vet my Bumble matches for me. I’ve looked through court records, local government records, anything I could find relating to Jughead Jones and have come up painfully short."

“I know, I know. I mean he’s probably had a name change or something. See if you can go get some intel on that. Did you reach out to Antonia yet?”

“I did, and she arranged a preliminary interview with one of Jones’ associates at Jean Georges at noon,” she says with a sheepish smile.

“Jesus Christ, offer to put it on the company card, but if they pay obviously don’t decline.”

“Obviously. Freaking Jean-Georges though Kev. What on earth do I wear?”

“Ooh, I know just the girl over at Vogue who’d be more than happy to help you out with this. Let me do this for you?” He pleads with her.

“Fine, you’re lucky it’s my lunch hour right now.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to love her,” Kevin replies with a devious smile.

Betty hails a taxi down to the Vogue offices at One World Trade Center. Browsing through her inbox on the trip over there, she gets a text from Kevin.

Her name’s Veronica Lodge, you’ll know her when you see her. She’s going to be waiting for you in the lobby.

And boy was Kevin right. Betty could not have been prepared for the raven-haired vixen who met her, hand extended. She figures that he must’ve given her a decent heads up as well. Her outfit is immaculate. Perfectly tailored. Rich in color. Intimidatingly gorgeous.

“Hi, I’m-”

“Betty Cooper. Nice to meet you. I’m Veronica Lodge, Style Director. I’ve read quite a bit of your work, even when you were at the Atlantic, it’s nice to have you playing for the right team. I’d be the last to admit it but some of the latest op-ed’s we’ve published have been rather lackluster, but you know, people don’t read Vogue for the opinion pieces.”  
“Wow, thank you. If your outfit is any indication of what you’re capable of, I know I’m in good hands.”

“Lunch at Jean Georges, huh? Seems a bit overkill for a quote-unquote preliminary interview. Nevertheless, I’ll have you looking gorgeous.”

Betty follows her as they make their way up to the Vogue offices.

Betty has been in here twice before, once to spitball ideas with editorial and feature staff members, and one other time to meet with Mrs. Anna Wintour herself. It was nerve-wracking, but once she sat down and Wintour started singing praises about a feature Betty had written for Vogue. Her confidence grew, explaining why the blonde currently feels comfortable in an environment that would make even the most radiant woman fall victim to insecurity.

They make their way back to a styling room, where interns search through and categorize clothing.

“Oh thank God, you're basically the sample size,” Veronica exclaims as she starts fingering her way through a rack of garments. Fabrics of tulle, silk, and other luxurious things seem to be sifted through as if they were nothing but old news, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Everything in the Vogue office is cutting edge, or else it simply wouldn’t even be in the building, to begin with.

“Stella McCartney just sent some PR boxes for me to root through yesterday, and this happened to be in one of them,” she says, handing over a printed silk skirt, abundant with gorgeous draping, directly into Betty’s arms.

“This one’s gorgeous as well, and so comfy. It’s Alexander McQueen, one-hundred percent cashmere, two-hundred percent beautiful,” she hands her a burgundy colored wrap style sweater, which is undoubtedly one of the most expensive things she’s ever held in her life.

Veronica commands the room without uttering a single word. Interns watch her every movement and adapt accordingly. She kneels on the ground, searching for a particular shoe box before handing it to her. A gorgeous pair of Aquazzura espadrilles in an earthy red that perfectly complements the McQueen sweater.

“Put everything on,” Veronica commands and Betty obliges, ducking behind one of the many curtains in the room.

Looking in the mirror, even the very typical self-critical voice in her head doesn’t have anything negative to say about it.

“Elle a l'air très belle? N'est-ce pas?” Veronica muses to some other girl in the room.

“Merci beaucoup,” Betty replies teasingly.

“Time to accessorize,” the raven-haired beauty exclaims with excitement.

She grabs Betty by the wrist and gives her some options. She ends up choosing a gorgeous Chloé bag and Veronica supplies her with some of the most gorgeous jewelry she’s ever seen.

“Thank you so much, Veronica, this is just incredible.”

“Well, you may as well dress up, regardless of how your interview goes, Jean-Georges is incredible, and an experience that you should cherish. I go at least once a year for my mother’s birthday.”

“What should I get?”

“Absolutely anything and everything Betty.”

The new friend's exchange numbers and Instagram handles, sharing unspoken promises of many late night conversations and shopping trips to come.


	2. Chapter 2

To say that Betty was unprepared for her Jean-Georges interview test run would be an understatement. At least she looked the part, she thinks, making a mental note to send Veronica some cupcakes from Magnolia as a thank you.

Interviews are usually something she excels at. Her own expertise serving as her lasso of truth. However, being set up for a preliminary interview feels odd. So much for censorship huh?

Not a minute late, Betty was escorted to the dining area, led to be seated in the plush white open interior of the infamous midtown restaurant.

Even more, while she had no preconceived ideas about who she would be meeting, she most certainly did not expect that.

That came in the form of an intimidatingly gorgeous woman, certainly close to Betty in age, possibly younger. She seemed like the girl that beanie wearing, record-store types dreamed of.

She was shorter than Betty, even in the heeled ankle boots that added some height. Long black hair with loose curls cascaded down her shoulders, a perfectly tailored leather jacket draped over her svelte frame. With tailored pants that kept everything polished. Her hair was so black it was almost a navy color.

Actually, upon further inspection, it is an inky blue shade.

Betty Extends her hand out towards the intimidating woman, “Hi, I’m-”

“Elizabeth Cooper. I’m JB, let’s sit.”  
  
They sit down, exchange initial pleasantries while looking at the menu, then ordering. JB orders a gin and tonic. Well, it is the afternoon, she reasons.

Betty reaches into the purse, pulling out the leather-bound Moleskine to open it and jot some things down. She looks up to meet JB’s questioning gaze, an eyebrow raised at her.

“No notes, Just talk like you’re having a normal fucking conversation,” JB states plainly, somewhat surprisingly since expletives seem so out of place considering the environment.

“Oh, my apologies I didn’t mean to bother you,” Betty pulls out her phone and hits the red circular button on her voice recording app.

“Is this alrigh-” before she can finish her question JB happens to take her phone and stops it, “And no recording, the less premeditated everything feels, the better.”

Inside, Betty is reeling. How does this girl expect her to conduct an authentic interview when her only point of reference for writing later is her own mind. It’s mildly infuriating.

“Again, sorry. Anyways, what’s your relationship with Mr. Jones?” Betty asks, taking a sip of the Rosé the waiter just brought over. At her question, JB bursts out into a small bout of laughter.

“Well, now it’s my turn to apologize. Sorry, it’s just funny hearing Jug referred to as ‘Mister Jones,’” JB explains of her reaction.  
“So, I take it you two are close friends?” Betty asks for clarification.

“He’s my brother,” she replies coolly, raising a glass to her lips.

“Anyways, why do you want to interview him? Certainly wouldn’t be my first pick,” JB teases.

“The Editor of Gentlemen’s Quarterly decided to make him ‘Man of the Year’ and assigned me to the grueling task of his profile.”

“We’re talking about the same Mister Jones correct? Jughead? As Man of the Year?” JB asks incredulously.

“Of Ophioneus Incorporated,” Betty replies while nodding.

“What is it exactly that your brother does?” she prods a little further, seeing that the drink seems to be calming JB a bit.

“Jughead doesn’t do a thing anymore. He hasn’t had to work for years at this point, now he sort of just oversees everything and makes sure no one fucks up too badly,” JB vaguely offers.

“So how did he make his fortune then?”

“I’ll let Jug tell you that one, assuming you don’t piss me off in the next hour or so,” she teases.  
  
The girls talk and banter, over phenomenal food and drink. JB finds herself taking a liking to the polished blonde, much more than she would’ve initially thought.

“So are you working for your brother?”

“Hell no, I work at a record store down in Brooklyn. It’s called Rough Trade, we have concerts and events all the time. It’s honestly the best thing I could’ve asked for. Jug did thankfully subsidize my living expenses for a long time, but now I make enough that I can afford the apartment my girlfriend and I share in Williamsburg on my own.”

“Ooh, nice. What does your girlfriend do?” JB’s eyes light up at the question.

“She’s a chef, depressing because of the ridiculous hours she works but it’s worth it. I tend to work late on weekends as well since whenever the shop has concerts I’ll work them as well so we tend to get out at the same time on those nights.”

  
“Admittedly I don’t get down to Brooklyn as much as I’d like to, work tends to keep me busy and at the end of the day it’s mainly just a subway ride from the building to my apartment.”

“Are you single?” JB asks, catching Betty a little off-guard.

“Well, yeah. Work is somewhat of my boyfriend at this point...”

“You should go out! You’re young and single in the city Betty. The only thing I miss about being single is going out all the time.”

“I don’t know. I go on the occasional Tinder date from time to time but the guys here are so self-absorbed. I get it Chad, you work on Wall Street. Congratu-fucking-lations,” Betty says, paying more attention to her wine glass than she probably should for a work assignment.

“Give me your number, I’ll coordinate a time for you to meet up with Jug,” JB says.

Meanwhile, Betty is internally freaking out at this point. Kevin is going to be PSYCHED.

She types her number into JB’s phone and sends a quick text to herself.

They’ve worked through their meals and the bill comes, Betty reaches for it but JB grabs it almost-aggressively, and she’s not one to fight.

“Well I’ll let you get back to your work Miss Journalist,” JB says.

“I’ve actually taken the afternoon off because of this, so more like back to the apartment,” Betty replies with false-excitement.

Maybe it’s not so false, a bubble bath does sound pretty good right about now.

“Oh no, blondie. Brooklyn’s been calling your name. I’m kidnapping you,” JB exclaims proudly.

“Seriously?”

The unlikely pair walks out of Jean-Georges en route to the Central Park subway station, side-by-side they look like they come from two completely different worlds.

They take the Q train, then seamlessly transfer to the L, like seasoned city-dwellers do.

“So are you originally from the city?” Betty asks.

“Actually, no. I grew up in Toledo, Ohio of all places. What about yourself?”

“I’m from a small town upstate. Moved here for school, then stayed for the job prospects”

“Nice, I went to NYU. Gallatin specifically, if you’re familiar. You strike me as a Columbia girl?”

“You got me. I actually wanted to go to NYU but my parents sort of refused to pay tuition there once they got wind I was accepted to Columbia. Mommy dearest is all about the prestige,” Betty says with an eye-roll.

“Yeah, I sort of followed in my brother's footsteps by going to NYU. Then, Jug did his graduate program at Columbia, but lord knows I don’t have the discipline required beyond a four-year program.”

“What was your major?”

“Multimedia Arts, I do some freelance Graphic Design and Video Editing in addition to working at the record store.”

“That’s amazing, I’ve always admired people who pursue arts as a job. So many people seem to choose stability over their passions and I think there’s a lot of regret in that.”

“Definitely, I’ve gotten to know quite a few regular customers at the store and a lot of them are in white collar jobs but would totally rather be doing something else, at least they always seem to walk out with hundreds worth in Vinyl.”

“So you’re going to show me the local’s way around Brooklyn?” Betty questions.

“Just you wait, I could sell this borough if I needed to.”

The girls arrive in Williamsburg and stroll down Bedford Ave, ducking into boutiques every now and then. Betty ends up buying more than she’s proud of, but she’s having such a good time she can’t be bothered to be fiscally responsible. Especially since she has specific spending money set aside for times like this.

JB ends up dragging Betty into a bar tucked within a store, a modern type of speakeasy. They sit and drink, laughing as if they’ve been friends for years.

“If I’m being completely honest with you JB, I was shaking before I met you. Like I was so nervous about how the interview thing was going to go. Like I’ve never done anything like that before...”

“Yeah, I’ll admit it’s fucking weird. Toni is pretty protective of Jug though and it makes sense to make sure that his time isn’t going to be wasted. He really doesn’t enjoy social interaction much, to begin with so we’re just keeping an eye out for him.”

“Have you done this for anyone else?”

“Oh yeah, basically for anyone who has to directly deal with him, you’d be surprised how abrasive some people are, no way am I going to let people that dense near my brother, like he was supposed to have an interview done with TIME a while back, and the journalists they kept sending our way seemed like they were all investigative terrorism specialists...”

“Is it always at Jean-Georges?”

“No, Jug and I have a standing reservation there though and he already couldn’t make it today so I didn’t really want it to go to waste.”

“That’s a pretty opulent standing reservation, to be fair.”

“Most definitely, but us Joneses love to eat and by doing it at a place like Jean-Georges means that it’s highly unlikely either of us will just flake on the other. It’s funny how passionately opposed Jug is to the fact it’s at the Trump hotel though. He almost had an aneurysm seeing Jared Kushner in the dining room one time.”

“I take it he isn’t very fond of our dear leader?” Betty teases

“Jugs views on politics tend to be equivalent to that of a literal Birkenstock. Very passionate about education, universal healthcare, etcetera. I personally think the government should just leave us the fuck alone but you know, at least Jug has the means to influence things should he want to.”

“Yeah, I did a bit of research before meeting with you and it seems like he’s very much the philanthropist,” Betty comments, attempting to gather more info. This is essentially an extended interview after all.

“Oh, Jug does so much. Back home, he bought up an apartment complex. Tenants were older and poorer, owed a shitload in back taxes as well as rent. Meanwhile, Jug brought on a management company to fix up the places, paid off any debts, and allows everyone to live there for free. He started a few scholarship funds back at the old high school for students who write for the school newspaper, lots of contributions towards things that personally affect him.”

“That’s amazing, honestly,” Betty replies looking at JB intently.

Betty gets the bartender’s attention. “What can I get for you miss?”

“I’ll have another old-fashioned, and she’ll take another gin and tonic.”

“Thanks, Betty, you don’t really have to,” JB says graciously.

“Don’t think about it, I insist.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V & B friendship ensues, Archie does a gig, Betty gets a lil drunk.

Betty hails an Uber back to her Upper West Side apartment, figuring that even with a manageable buzz, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Sitting in the backseat of the SUV, she jots down some notes about the meeting with JB.

**** **_Jughead Jones_ **

  * **_NYU undergraduate_**
  * **_Columbia graduate program_**
  * **_From Toledo Ohio_**
  * **_Overprotective friends and family - possible social anxiety_**
  * **_Philanthropist_**
  * **_Worked for his HS newspaper_**
  * **_Liberal af_**  



 

Once she gets back to the Upper West Side her phone buzzes.

_Hey Betty, this is Veronica! My fiance is doing a gig tonight at 8. Please come with me? :)_

Betty decides to dial the number instead of texting back.  
  
“Hey V, it’s Betty.”

“So are you coming tonight?”

“Um, where is it?”

“Brooklyn, I know it’s a hike but I’ll cover the car and it will be really fun I promise?” Veronica pleads from the other end.

 “I don’t know, I was just down in Williamsburg.”

“Betty, what on earth were you doing in Williamsburg, don’t tell me you skipped lunch at Jean-Geor-”

“No, no I would never do that. Lunch actually went better than expected. I’ll fill you in on the way to Brooklyn I guess.”  
  
“Oh my gosh you are the best Betty, send me your addy, I’ll be outside at 7.”

Betty takes the elevator up to her apartment. Her new salary as a Senior Writer has afforded her a much nicer apartment sans roommates. A luxury that she once thought was unattainable in this overpriced concrete jungle

She checks the time and it’s only quarter ‘til six, enough time to reset herself for the evening. She runs a hot bath with a few drops of lavender essential oil in it, while stripping herself of today’s outfit and makeup.

She slathers a face mask on and ties up her hair, not wanting to deal with the consequences of getting it wet an hour before going out. Sinking into the soaking tub, she closes her eyes and lets her muscles relax into the heat of the water.

Getting out, she washes her facemask off and applies her typical five minute makeup routine. She decides to wear the same thing as earlier, but substitutes dark wash denim for the skirt.  
  
Her phone starts ringing from its place on top of the comforter where she left it.

“I’m outside Betty,” Veronica’s voice sings.  
  
She quickly applies some perfume before running out of the door to the elevator.

Veronica is standing out front of her building and greets her with a hug, leading Betty to the car that will take them to the venue.  
  
“Now Archie is already there but you’ll get to meet him after the show. Betty this is Smithers, he’s been driving me around since I was a little girl.”  
  
“It’s very nice to meet you Ms. Betty,” Smithers says with a stereotypical tip of the hat he’s wearing.  
  
“Same to you,” she says back before Veronica’s eagerness to gossip clearly gets the best of her.  
  
“Okay, so you need to spill about lunch, what happened?"

“Oh, it was Jughead Jones’ sister. Her name is JB, she lives in Williamsburg and she’s like the coolest girl I’ve seen. She’s like one of those Cara Delevingne types that’s too cool to care about anything they do. Super effortless and gorgeous. She has a girlfriend and works at a vinyl shop, so obviously Brooklyn fits her just fine.”

 

“That’s crazy, you said you went to Williamsburg with her? How did that come up?”

“She was letting me go back to work when I mentioned I had the afternoon off and hadn’t been to Brooklyn in a while so she was sort of insistent on bringing me down. It was really fun though, she’s like everything I’d want to be if I had any sort of artistic talent,” Betty says looking at her phone.  
  
“Yeah, Archies just naturally gifted with his voice and songwriting. He just signed with a label a few months ago and they’ve been working on putting together an EP,” Veronica brags. 

“Oh, wow. Did they find him or was he actively searching for representation?”

“They found him, he’s been doing open night mics since coming to the city and apparently he impressed the right person. He had actually been making money at modeling, which is how I met him. It wasn’t really what he wanted to do, but while at NYU he was scouted and I guess the money was too good for him to turn down.”  
  
“So did he model for an editorial you were working?”

“Ugh, I wish. It was way more complicated than that. So he was actually dating one of the models who I was styling for a shoot and he was just hanging out on set. Dude couldn’t keep his eyes off of me, meanwhile, his girlfriend is looking absolutely stunning. He literally broke up with her while she was on set, she was crying, it was a complete mess for a while. Then he hung around the office all evening after the shoot was done. I was like actually pretending to work late to see if he’d stay around and he did. All of that and he asks me out for a drink, I turned him down because he had literally just broken up with his girlfriend. Like, right in front of me too. So I told him to call me in a few weeks and then we’d talk. He called me the next day and asked me out to lunch, I declined but he was actually begging over the phone, and I said yes so he’d stop.”

“That’s actually crazy, where did he end up taking you?” Betty asks further.

“He whisked me off to Gramercy Tavern, which is ridiculous because I was sure there was like no way that he would have known it’s my absolute favorite place in the city. So lunch went fantastic, I was crushing on him by the end of it and I could tell he was smitten with me too. But at the end, he admits he asked around the office while he was waiting as to where my favorite place was. Which of course melts my heart and I kissed him.”

“V, that’s so adorable. Sounds unreal, I think I would have a heart attack if any guy in this city seemed to put a single second of consideration into what I would want for a first date. No, I just end up at Peter Luger’s ten times in a single month.”  
  
“Oh honey, no. I’ll ask Archie if he has any friends,” Veronica promises.

“Honestly, at this point it’s only going uphill from here.”

The ride back is much more mundane, Veronica manages to very aptly provide a summarization of the lifestyle section of the New York Times without even trying.  
  
Betty could really use a friend like her. Always knowing what’s going on, when it’s happening. She finds the city to be quite overwhelming at times so hearing a condensed version like this is refreshing and palatable.

They cross the Brooklyn Bridge, a marker that so clearly distinguishes Brooklyn from the rest of the island. 

The ride is littered with little interjections from Veronica when she finds things to be of particular importance like:

“Ooh, Betty we have to go to Smorgasburg when the outdoor market opens!”

And

“I heard Gabrielle Aplin is doing a show at Rough Trade later this month do you want me to get tickets?”

Finally, the girls pull up to the venue. A popular farm-to-table restaurant featuring upscale American comfort food and live music. Not that Betty is even the slightest bit hungry considering the amount of food she consumed at lunch.

 Thinking of her time spent in Williamsburg earlier, Betty decides to text JB.

  ** _Hey Girl! Found myself down in Williamsburg a second time today. Seeing a friend perform at the St. Mazie!_**

 **JB:** **_Wow, you just couldn’t get enough of me? Sadly, I’m working until close so I can’t come meet up, but I applaud you for braving Brooklyn twice in one day._ **

It’s 7:55 and Betty's worried that they’re going to have trouble finding a seat at the packed venue. Veronica seemingly reading her mind, talks to the hostess who directs her to a table right in front of the stage. The restaurants aesthetic could best be described as botanist-chic. They sit down and order a few drinks and the manager comes over to speak with Veronica, “You know, Thursday night music is typically just filled with dinner guests who enjoy the music but Archie draws a pretty large crowd of reservations.”

The manager Lucy, is young and blonde and gorgeous. More carefree than Betty could ever hope to be. Veronica seems super pleased with the fact that Archies gaining a following, regardless if it’s lovesick women hoping to have a chance with him..  
  
“I can’t wait to tell Archie that! Thanks Lucy,” she beams.

“The two of you are drinking on me tonight, and you’ll continue to as long as you keep that heartthrob boyfriend of yours filling this place,” she teases with a wink. 

A muscular redhead walks up to the stage and takes a seat. An acoustic guitar draped across his torso, and a microphone already perfectly positioned at his level. Veronica blows him a kiss.

“Hey everyone, thanks for coming out tonight. I’m Archie Andrews and I’m going to play some music for you all tonight,” he says before beginning to lightly strum on his guitar strings.

It’s mainly covers of things like Sufjan Stevens, because that’s what this audience seems to want, but when he does slip in original songs they’re _really_ good, albeit a little bit corny, they’ll definitely sell as singles.

 After he wraps up his final set, both Veronica and Betty are slightly drunk.

“And who is this?” Archie asks, gesturing to Betty.

“Archie Andrews, meet Betty Cooper, my new best friend,” Veronica says, uncharacteristically throwing an around around Betty.

She pulls away and gives Archie a quick passionate kiss, “You did amazing tonight Archiekins.”

Betty lets out a soft chuckle at the nickname but figures it’s something he’s used to.

The three make their way back to the comfortable world of Upper Manhattan, where Betty is dropped off in front of her building.  
  
“Thanks for coming out tonight Betty!” Archie yells out the car window.  
  
“No problem! You were great!” She yells back with a laugh, clearly a little more uninhibited than she usually would be.

Heading up to her studio apartment, she stumbles in, hanging her keys up and scattering her shoes about the entryway.

She downs the contents of a pastel pink Hydroflask, the water still ice cold and helping break through the warm flush currently occupying her body.

Popping a few ibuprofen before heading off to bed. She wipes her makeup off with a wipe and some micellar water she keeps on her bedside table specifically for nights like this.

Betty plugs in her phone and quickly checks through her essential applications; Instagram, Snapchat, her emails, etc., when she sees a text from JB. It must’ve come in earlier when she was texting her but she never actually got a chance to read it.  
  
**JB:** ** _Hey, Jughead said that he could meet with you on Monday, let me know if that works_** ** _  
_** **_for you?_**

She decides to wait until the morning to write a response, wanting to sound more composed and professional than a few drunken typos would indicate.


	4. Chapter 4

Jughead walks into his Upper East Side office building, making his way up to the 80th floor. Admittedly, New York City high-rises used to scare him a bit, but he wouldn’t have chosen the property, except for the fact that his company absolutely needed the space. 80,000 employees and counting, and he needs every square foot in the city that he can get. After tons of meetings with various executives and advisors, perusing this idea of a relocation, they’ve decided it was impractical for the time being. However, the companies long-term plans lead way for expansion into other areas. 

Once he gets to his office, he relaxes down into the expensive ergonomic chair Toni had insisted on ordering him, mainly so she could justify the purchase for herself. Very few people are on his floor today, it is a Saturday after all. 

He logs into his desktop and checks through various company emails, one from Fogarty, a few from Joaquin, different things that don’t directly pertain to him, but he’s included on regardless since he’s the boss.

His cell phone starts ringing and he lets out a groan, until he sees its JB. Calling him? Seems about right, she’s too brazen to be satisfied with a text conversation, and God forbid she engage in the corporate evil of emailing.

“Jellybean?” he asks upon answering.

“Wow, good morning, nice to talk to you too Jughead!” she says with sarcasm dripping through her voice on the other end.

“Sorry, what’s up?”

“I told Betty Cooper you were available all day monday,” she says.

“Why on earth JB… I wanted it capped at two hours, max. See, this is why I let Toni handle my appointments now.... I have things to do on monday,” he replies hoping his annoyance is conveyed.”

“What? Like not getting any progress done on your next great american novel? Jug, trust me on this. You’re going to want this time...” She says cryptically, he shudders a bit in his chair, not liking how vague she’s being.

“And what am I supposed to do with a complete stranger for eight hours. Are you going to provide us with an itinerary?” he spits.

“Just meet her for lunch, walk through central park, take her to a fucking bookstore, You’ve never been one for conventional things, Jug.”

“I don’t know if anyone told you, but I’m not trying to date the fucking reporter,” he says, rolling his eyes so hard, he’s sure she can see it through their phone call.

Jellybean silently laughs on the other line, “I get it. I’m not trying to set you up, just figured that the more distracted she is, the less proding she’ll do into the company. I can’t imagine a glowing write up on Ophioneus should she find out its foundation was built on a criminal organization.”

“Don’t say shit like that outloud JB, might as well wear your Serpent jacket outside if you’re going to be sharing that information so freely,” Jughead quips.

“I could get away with it in Brooklyn, wear it once, the Whole-Foods-Hipsters down here will just assume I bought it from a cool vintage shop, replicate the logo, slap it on a Schott Perfecto Jacket, and boom,we’re hiding in plain sight because dudes drinking PBR will wear it for the aesthetic.”

“Just, no. Can you send me her information? Like phone number and stuff so I can tentatively organize Monday instead of falling victim to whatever hell you were planning on putting me through,” he teases.

“Fine, I’ll send it to you. Don’t fuck it up though, I actually would like to keep her as a friend,” she says seriously, catching him somewhat off-guard, since his baby sister has a hardened personality and he couldn’t imagine her letting in someone like that after a single lunch date.

“Thanks, I’ll see you and Olivia at dinner tonight?” He asks.

“Yeah, definitely. Dad said to bring a dessert over so I was going to stop at Eataly or something on the way over. Anyways, see you tonight.” 

Jughead sighs and relaxes back in his chair, the conversation was a little more stressful that he anticipated when he saw her contact flashing on his phone screen.  
Despite JB’s perfectly valid claims about him not making much progress on his current book, he actually manages to make a little bit of headway.

Since it’s a weekend he’s in a black t-shirt, dark-wash jeans, and vans slip-ons, instead of the usual formal business attire he’s obligated to wear. 

So automatically he gets up to shut his office door when he hears the elevator ding. Not necessarily wanting any of his employees to see him dresses so casually. Only a few seconds late, his door opens anyways. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“JB said you’d be here,” Toni says standing in the doorway.”

“And?” he prompts, wanting to get back to his writing.

“God, don’t be such a dick Jones, I was just going to ask if you wanted me to bring you back something from Papaya King,” Toni says, clearly annoyed.

“I’ll come,” he gets up and logs off his desktop. Pulling on his sweatshirt and grabbing his bag.

Toni watches him, noticing the sliver of skin revealed when he raised his arms, his toned abs peeking through. 

It’s not unusual for her to take note of things like that. They used to have an actual thing before they realized it was too weird, the romantic aspects of their relationship weren’t there, so they just ended up becoming fuck buddies. Their tastes were similar and they were pretty sexually compatible, so they kept at it for a while. Toni was typically the one who initiated things, but things have slowed over the past couple of months as she was going on more dates with more women. Jughead didn’t mind though, their arrangement arose more out of convenience than anything else, and it’s not like he’d have any issues getting a woman’s attention.

They leave the office and take an Uber to the small, hotdog institution. There’s the expected lunch rush, but seats are still available. As usual, Jughead orders enough food to feed a small country and a large papaya drink. Comparing the twos orders side by side is almost comical, but no one mentions anything.

Jughead’s crushing through a cup of curly fries when Toni breaks the comfortable silence, ‘So, this reporter really seems to have made an impression JB...“

Jughead looks up at Toni and raises an eyebrow, as if asking what are you trying to do by bringing this up? 

“I mean, JB doesn’t like anyone, it just surprised me when we were talking about it earlier,” Toni says.

“Well hopefully the interview will go well then, get the company a bit of good publicity, raise stock prices...” he trails off.

“Have your face on the cover of GQ proclaiming Jughead Jones as man of the year as well as NYC’s most eligible bachelor.”

“Well, that’s the last thing I want. Definitely need to ensure the story won’t get spinned that way,” he says throw a mouthful of fries.

 

It’s an idyllic morning, sitting on the patio of the Boathouse in Central Park, along with her sister Polly and her niece and nephew. Polly and Betty enjoy their breakfast sandwiches while Juniper and Dagwood are sitting in their side by side stroller seemingly having the time of their lives. They’re old enough to walk now, both of them just shy of three years old, however they’re too mischevious to go sans restraints in the city.

“I really wish you and Jason lived uptown. Greenwich Village isn’t that far on paper, but it’s difficult not seeing these little bugs as often as I’d like to,” Betty coos at her sister’s adorable children.

“I mean Jason’s family has owned that property for years, they have the mortgage paid and everything, all we’re covering is utilities and city taxes. You know I couldn’t get that deal uptown Betty. Besides, Jason and I are thinking about moving back to Riverdale.”

“What? Where is this coming from Polly?”

“Well Jason can basically do his job from home now, and New York City isn’t exactly the ideal place to raise a child. We want to get a dog, have a yard and a white picket fence, Riverdale would be so much better than anything we could give Juniper and Dag in the city. Preschool would run us upwards of sixty thousand a year in the city, it just doesn’t seem worth it anymore.”

Betty wants to object and be selfish, Polly is the only person in her immediate family that she can tolerate, and now she’s going to leave her all alone in the city. The rational part of her mind however, knows that it’d be a good move for them.

“Yeah, seems like some fresh air would definitely benefit these baby Blossoms,” Betty says softly, listening in on the conversation Juniper and Dagwood seem to be having about the dogs in the park.

“Mommy can we get a doggy?!?” the twins shout in unison, just another example demonstrating how in tune they are with each other. Junipers going on about how she wants a big shaggy thing that looks like her dolls hair, and Dagwood just starts chanting for a puppy. Polly rubs her temples and shoots Betty a look, as if communicating can you believe what they put me through.

The rest of their morning strolling through central park is a fun, yet uneventful time. After years of living here, it just feels good to be one with the city. 

They walk back to Betty’s apartment, a quick greeting to her doorman and she’s back to her little piece of serenity in the otherwise hectic city. 

Juniper and Dagwood sit down on the couch, captivated by the cartoon program that Polly puts on the tv. 

 

Polly and Betty escape back to her bedroom, Betty throws herself on the bed, Polly sits by her side and rubs her sisters back. “How’s the current project coming along?”

“I get to interview GQ’s man of the year on monday,” Betty says in a mockingly excited tone.

“Who is it? Is he single?”

“Not exactly a household name, Jughead Jones. And my lack of evidence of him being in a relationship points to yes,” Betty replies, adjusting her position and burying her cheek into the cool fabric of her pillowcase.  
“Huh, the name sounds familiar. I think Jason might have mentioned him before, not completely sure though. Should be interesting though. Is he cute?”

“I actually have no idea what he looks like. Anonymity seems to be his thing,” Betty replies.

“Well for your sake baby sister, I hope he’s a tall dark handsome knight in shining armor just waiting to whisk you off to your own personal fairytale land,” Polly teases.

“Well I for one, hope he isn’t. It’s much more challenging to maintain my focus when interviewing attractive people, besides I don’t want to destroy any sort of professionalism I may possess.”


End file.
